


And There You Are

by wanwinks



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanwinks/pseuds/wanwinks
Summary: Wendy is a stand-up comedienne who, despite years of hard work and passion, never seems to hit it big... not until she gets pleasantly distracted by someone at the corner of the club, giggling at everything she says and does on stage.





	And There You Are

****Another day, another failed attempt at making people laugh. Wendy never understood why her jokes never appealed to her audience (or lack thereof).  
  
She always made people laugh - her friends, her family. The close ones. No one else really bothered. She just...wasn’t funny.

 

She still pressed on. The thought of making people happy, making people laugh; it keeps her going. She enjoys it.  
  
She just never understood how not one member of the audience would laugh. People would leave halfway into her performance. Rude, but she remained professional.

 

“Tomorrow’s the day!”  
  
Wendy finally managed to book the venue she’s always wanted to perform at—dark, underground and mysterious. Or at least that’s what her friends told her.  
  
She spent a couple hours editing parts of her performance, excited and nervous for the next day.

 

The next morning, she rehearsed and re-rehearsed. Everything seemed perfect. It wasn’t like she had never put in effort into all of her performances, but today seemed a little different. Just a little more effort wouldn’t hurt, right?  
  
“I hope tonight goes well...”

 

The club was jam packed with people singing and dancing to whatever music whoever was playing on the stage she was going to be on in a moment. She really didn’t bother. All she knew was that she turned out to be a lot more nervous than she had expected herself to be.

 

She went to the holding room, pacing around as she tried once again to perfect her script, making sure all the jokes were as funny as she could possibly imagine them to be. She practiced her facial expressions in the mirror—that would make everything seem funnier..right?

 

After running through her script a couple more times, it was her turn to be on stage. There was nothing to be afraid of, not when she’s probably failed more times than there were numbers.  
  


“I either get more chances to perform here, or not at all. Nothing will get worse!”

  
  


-

  
  


The little pep talk she gave herself did absolutely no magic.  
  
The crowd was same old: partying amongst themselves, strangers creating small talk and people ordering their drinks at the counter. Whatever they were doing, they were simply paying no attention to her.

 

She did, however, see someone right at the back of the club, in some secluded corner where no one else stood. Dressed in what looked like a black dress (nothing too short, it seems) and a white jacket, this someone was in her own world, giggling away.

 

Wendy considers that maybe she’s had a few too many drinks. It's a club after all. What she then notices is that she wasn’t holding any drinks in her hand, doesn’t seem to have come with any friends to have to be socially drinking either.  
  
Why was she laughing to herself?

 

As the performance went on, Wendy couldn’t help but look in the direction of that someone. She would try to look in the general direction of the crowd, but the giggling was distracting — pleasantly distracting. Everytime Wendy said something, she would be giggling.

 

After her performance, she sat in the holding room where her belongings were at.  
  
She had never felt this accomplished after a show. The reason for that? Well... Wendy decided she would thank that someone on the way out, for making her finally feel like she belongs on stage.

 

The crowd was back to where they were before: a noisy mess. Wendy tried her best to push past the (mostly drunk) people that were trying to hit on her. She headed straight for that corner, bent on looking for that little giggling figure she was distracted by a while ago.

 

As she approached, that same face she saw; there were no more giggles. It was, instead, a look that Wendy couldn’t decipher. It held a tinge of sadness, maybe regret, and a whole lot of beauty..?  She caught herself staring as someone bumped her shoulder as they walked past her.

 

She figured she would approach her, just to thank her for appreciating Wendy’s jokes and attempts to make the audience laugh, regardless of whether or not the laughter was a genuine response to her jokes.  
  
Wendy gave the lady’s shoulder a tap. “Hey!”

 

“Oh, hi. I don’t need another drink, if you were wondering. I’m miserable enough,”  
  
“Um, I just wanted to thank you for laughing at my jokes earlier on. Really helps to keep me going on stage kinda thing, you know?”  
  
With that said, her giggling face came back. Her eyes lit up, she sat upright and flashed Wendy with the brightest crooked smile Wendy had ever seen.  
  
“Oh! Sorry I didn’t mean to throw you off. No worries! I really enjoyed your performance and I haven’t had a good laugh in such a long while. I really needed it.”

 

Someone enjoyed her performance? As crazy as it seems, that was the first compliment Wendy had ever received since she decided she would start performing. She was taken aback, but accepted the compliment as it was anyway.  
  
“O-oh, thank you so much! It means a lot to me.”

 

“It does? Well, thank you for making my day. Or week, or better yet, my entire month. I’m sure nothing can make me feel any better than I was while listening to you tell your jokes.”  
  
Wendy made a mental note that it was really only the first week of December.

“I didn’t get your name though,”  
  
“Irene. My name is Irene.” What a fitting name, Wendy thought to herself.  
  
“Well, I hope to see you at my shows again, Irene. It was really nice to have you as a member of the audience tonight.” Wendy really hoped that she could see Irene again, even if it was for a split second.

  
  


-

  
  


Wendy didn’t get invited back to that same club to perform again. Nothing unexpected, but she was hoping she would get invited back. It wasn’t a big deal, but she felt sad about it. Somehow. All she really wanted was to have someone enjoy her performance again, just once more.

 

She decided that she would try her luck once more, to see if the club would let her back in again, after the failed performance. It was the only place she could think of visiting to see her favourite audience member again. To see Irene again.

 

They let her in somehow, and Wendy tried her hardest yet again to put on an enjoyable show for the clubgoers. But yet again, nothing changed. There was no reaction from the audience, it was just her reacting to her own jokes. But one thing did change.  
  
Irene was nowhere to be seen, even in the corners of the club like she was the last time.

 

It wasn’t like Irene had to frequent the club or anything, but it was Wendy’s best bet. All she wanted was for someone to tell her that they enjoyed her performance again. It was nice to hear.  
  
Guess she shouldn’t have hoped for too much.

  
  


-

  
  


Wendy decided she’d visit the washroom before she left. Yes, the washroom was not the best place to go when in a club, but she couldn’t leave the place while being half sober.

 

She really didn’t expect to walk into the washroom and see Irene there, sat down in the corner, eyes tightly shut, hands covering her ears. Nothing about that looked normal at all, not when Irene seems like nothing short of brightness, and happiness and all the beautiful things in the world.

 

“Hey, you alright?” Wendy slowly, cautiously, approached Irene. Irene looked up, eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down her face.

 

"Please... don't... not right now," Irene sounded like she was pleading. Wendy didn’t bother asking what for. All she knew was that Irene was better off getting out of that godforsaken club toilet.

 

"Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here. Okay?" Irene nodded, slowly stood up and Wendy took Irene's hand in hers, leading her out of the club.

 

When they were finally, finally out of that place, Wendy didn't stop. She continued leading Irene to somewhere far away. They stopped at a park, some ten minutes walk away.

 

She slowly led Irene to a bench, sat her down and finally took a good look at her. Her head was still hanging low, sniffling and wiping her tears away. "Where are we?" Irene mumbled, voice too soft that Wendy thought it was just her imagination.

 

"Somewhere safe. You're safe now, its okay." Wendy reassured her.

 

Irene slowly, cautiously lifted her head up, her eyes first settling on Wendy's face. Her hair was a mess, mascara streaked across her cheeks, mucus running down her philtrum.

 

"Are you okay? You look like a mess now. Can I help to clean you up?" Wendy couldn’t help but chuckle. A messy Irene was pretty cute.

 

“Don’t laugh at me...” Irene managed to say through hitched breaths. Nonetheless, she nodded, and Wendy immediately swung her backpack around and dug out a packet of tissues and began wiping away the tears that have stained her beautifully constructed face for far too long.

 

“You know, I wouldn’t expect to see a pretty girl crouched down in the toilet by herself with her obviously non waterproof mascara all over her face." Wendy joked, attempt at making Irene feel even the slightest bit better. Irene flashed her that crooked smile—that tiny crooked smile—and made Wendy flare right up, tips of her ears definitely a shade of pink. "Thank you for thinking that I'm pretty." Wendy tried to stop her hands from trembling while still trying to help clear Irene's face of any more stains.

 

"Maybe you'd like to clean off the snot on your own though?"

 

Irene giggled— _Wow, I’ve really missed seeing her giggle_ —and took over, cleaning herself up.

 

“Sorry I’m such a mess. Just... things happen and I can’t control when they happen. Thank you so much for getting me out of there though, I wouldn’t have made it out on my own.” It sounded like an apology, and Wendy had no idea why.

 

“I’m surprised you even remember who I am—”

 

“I meant it when I said your performance made me very happy. I haven’t been this happy in a long while.” Irene cut her off, looking like as if her entire existence relied on that one sentence. She wasn’t joking when she said that. _She wasn’t._

 

Wendy didn’t know what it was, but she was so happy. To have even one person, and a stranger at that, who appreciated her hard work. It was so much more than she could ever ask for. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me, Irene.”

 

It really meant the world to Wendy. Only she knew the amount of effort that went into her performances. It was _a lot of effort._ She would have spent almost 5 years of her life performing like that, _like a failure,_ she always told herself. But she was so passionate about it, and it paid her bills. She would just break even on some months, living on the most basic necessities. What was most important to her was that one day—just one day—someone will come to appreciate her hard work and passion for making people happy.

 

And today was that day.

 

“If you’re okay with it, could you text me every time you perform? I’m sure you’re very busy and perform a lot and I won’t be able to go to all of them, but if I could go to see you perform every once in a while, it would-”

 

“Yes! Of course. I mean, sure, definitely. Could always use an extra supporter at my shows,”   _So much for sounding less enthusiastic._

 

She pulled out her phone and passed it over to Irene, allowing her to enter her number.

  
  


-

  
  


“You should go home now, Wendy. We’re so far away from where you live. I’m fine, really. You didn’t have to walk me home.” Irene tried persuading Wendy to make her way home.

 

“Wait, I don’t recall telling you my name,”

 

“You introduced yourself when you were on stage, silly. It's called paying attention. Now, can you _please_ make your way home?” Wendy’s attempt at subject change was successful. Well, kind of.

 

“Ugh, fine. But that’s only because you look much better than you were earlier. I know you still aren’t feeling the best, from personal experience. Promise to feel better and smile more then I’ll go.” Wendy crossed her arms and feigned anger.

 

She could _feel_ Irene’s gaze fixed on her even when she was looking at everywhere else but at Irene.

 

“Okay, promise. Pinky promise. Now please go home, it's late.” Irene held out her pinky and made, _forced,_ Wendy to do a pinky promise.

 

“Who does that now? We aren’t kids anymore, you’re aware of that right?”

 

“Guess I don’t have to make myself feel better tonight then,” Irene mocked, slowly lowering her hand.

 

_She’s so cute._

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll do the pinky promise. But please, take care of yourself. I still need my extra audience member,” her heart was so full, knowing that she could have such a positive impact on someone like she’s always dreamed of doing.

 

“Promise!”

 

Wendy watched on as Irene slowly walked away, and finally as she rounded the corner into another street.

 

  
  



End file.
